


3 a.m.

by chiliscale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Cursed Sam Winchester, De-Aged Sam Winchester, M/M, Somnophilia, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26064721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiliscale/pseuds/chiliscale
Summary: Sam gets himself cursed and Dean can´t take his eyes off his brother.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 236





	3 a.m.

Moonlight pours through the half-drawn curtains of their motel room and draws strange shapes and shadows on the walls. In the distance, a car rushes by, and Dean can make out the faint echo of weary footsteps as another late-night costumer stumbles to their room.

It´s a quiet night, peaceful and silent in a way that is rare for this kind of roadside motel. There´s no drunken laughter, no over-the-top sex noises coming from the room next door, and yet, sleep eludes him, the leftover adrenaline from their latest hunt still buzzing through his veins and making any attempt at rest impossible.

Dean groans and flops from his back to his side, right hand punching the pillow into shape to make it more comfortable.

God, he hates the nights his body is not exhausted enough to allow him to fall asleep as soon as his head hits the mattress.

Nights like these are dangerous. Night like these give him opportunity to _think_ , and thinking is pretty much the very last thing he wants to do right now.

At least Sammy´s asleep, has been for hours already, curled up in the other bed, oblivious to his brother´s struggles.

Dean watches Sam sleep, traces the steady rise and fall of his back, listens to the soft snores Sam makes on every other intake.

Any other night, Dean would be over on the other bed too, body curled up around Sam´s, nose buried in his brother´s neck.

Tonight´s not like other nights, though. Watching has to be enough – even if that means that Dean´s bed feels empty, cold and entirely too big without Sam´s giant body taking up most of the mattress.

Dean can still breathe with him, though. In and out, slow and steady, the familiar rhythym slowly lulling him to sleep, eyes growing heavier with every minute that ticks by.

He´s drifting, right on the verge of falling asleep when a strangled moan makes his heart skip a beat and his instincts kick in.

Dean´s already off the bed when Sam makes another soft noise, a quiet kind of sigh that turns into a groan halfway through, and it´s only then that Dean registers the jerky little rocking movements Sam´s hips are making against the mattress, and oh. _Oh_.

Not a nightmare, then.

Dean swallows and tears his eyes away from the other bed, tries to distract himself with thoughts of blood and splitting bones, the look of utter disbelieve on that witch´s face when his bullet hit home, but it´s not long before his attention is back on Sam, his brother´s light soaked frame drawing him in like a beacon.

Not for the first time, Dean both curses and blesses his foresight to get two beds instead of only one. As much as he hates being separated from Sam, right now the distance between their beds is the only thing still keeping him in place, the only thing still keeping him _sane_.

If Sam were within touching distance…

“ _Please_!” Sam whimpers, needy and desperate, and Dean has to bite his tongue to keep himself from answering.

Fuck. _Fuck_. This is not how this was supposed to go.

Dean had known right from the very beginning that Sam´s current _situation_ was going to be a problem.

They´ve definitely dealt with worse curses during the years – amnesia spells. disappearing kidneys, temporary blindness. That one witch that had made them speak in rhymes for three days straight.

De-aging spells do not even make the top fifty of fucked-up-ways-witches-have-tried-to-kill-them. Dean can deal with Sam not being able to reach the top-shelf for a day or two if the alternative is to die a bloody and very uncomfortable death.

What he hasn´t counted on, though, is his own fucked-up libido.

Dean had almost forgotten how tiny and fucking delicious Sam had been as a teenager – all coltish limbs and developing muscle, dimpled smile and huge, innocent eyes.

He looks like all of Dean´s wet teenage-dreams rolled into one, and to make matters even worse, Sam has only been wearing a t-shirt for most of the night.

 _Dean_ ´s t-shirt, to be precise, the one that had shrunken three sizes in the washing machine a few towns back.

Three. Sizes. And it still looks ridiculously huge on Sam, always slipping off of one skinny shoulder and nearly falling down to his knees.

Sam´s going commando underneath. They had tried every single pair of underwear they owned, but nothing would stay on Sam´s narrow hips. Grumpily, Sam had finally admitted defeat and resigned himself to staying inside their motel room until Dean found him something to wear.

Just a few hours earlier, Dean had laughed his ass off at Sam´s expense. Right now, he can´t quite remember what the hell he´d found so funny about Sam wearing nothing but a friggin' t-shirt.

It would be so easy – all Dean has to do is walk over there and spread Sam´s legs a little, slide between his thighs, see if his dick still fits right between the cheeks of Sam´s ass.

As if on cue, Sam makes another punched-out little sound, followed by a cry that sounds suspiciously like Dean´s name, and that´s just _fucking_ _it_.

Enough. is. enough.

Sam squirms a little when the mattress dips under Dean´s weight, but he doesn´t wake, too caught up in his dream to notice the presence of another person.

He´s even more intoxicating from up close.

Dean´s shirt has rucked up over the swell of Sam´s ass and now all that pale, smooth skin is on full display.

He looks innocent and young, untouched and perfect. Like he has been waiting for Dean to mess him up a little.

And Dean drinks his fill shamelessly, watches the play of Sam´s muscles as he ruts against the mattress, a wet spot already forming where his pink teenage cock is drooling onto the sheets.

“Damnit, Sammy,” Dean whispers roughly, his own dick swelling inside his boxers and pressing impatiently against the fabric. God, how the fuck is he supposed to fucking walk away from this?

Hesitantly, he extends a hand and trails his fingers up the inside of one of Sam´s hairless thighs, the skin flawless and soft against his calloused finger tips.

Sam shivers and instinctively spreads his legs a little wider, his body responding beautifully to Dean´s touch, even in sleep.

It´s only all to easy to lean in and let his lips follow the same path his fingers took, to suck and lick at the skin and listen to Sam´s moans grow louder the closer Dean gets to his cock.

He ignores it for now and goes straight for the prize, uses both hands to gently spread Sam´s cheeks and ghosts his thumb over Sam´s hole.

It´s fucking tiny, tight and pink, the muscle barley giving way to the pressure of Dean´s finger.

Sam still tastes the same, though, still squirms when Dean buries himself nose-deep between his cheeks, and it´s not long before he´s pushing back on Dean´s tongue like the little slut he is, one of his hands trying and failing to find purchase in Dean´s hair.

“D-dean,” Sam chokes out, sleep-drunk and confused, breaking off in a moan when Dean´s index finger pushes inside.

Fuck, he´s tight, muscles gripping Dean like a vice, pulling him in greedily, like Sam can´t wait to be full again.

Dean grabs Sam´s hips to hold him still and slides his finger all the way in, lips and tongue working on Sam´s rim and sucking bruises into his ass.

Sam has always been responsive, but teenage Sam is a fucking dream. Every little twist and turn has Sam shaking apart beneath him, broken little moans falling from his lips and making Dean wish that he could see Sam´s face.

He´s two fingers in now, gently scissoring them to help Sam get used to the stretch, tongue pushing spit into Sam´s hole to ease the slide.

It´s the third finger that finally does it. One well-aimed twist and Sam comes with a shout, whole body jerking as he spills all over the sheets.

Dean tightens his grip on Sam´s hips and tongue-fucks him through it, his head spinning with how easy it is to hold Sam down, how little Sam could do to throw him off, even if he wanted to.

He only backs off when Sam whimpers from over-sensitivity, gently pulls his fingers free and presses a chaste kiss to Sam´s twitching hole.

“Fuck,” Sam pants and turns his head to look up at Dean from beneath his sweaty bangs. “W-what -”

“Shh.” Dean shushes him and licks a few stray drops of come off of Sammy´s inner thigh. It tastes different, somehow. Younger. Sweeter. More innocent and dirtier all at once. “You were crying out for me in your sleep,” Dean explains and pulls his shirt over his head before pushing his underwear down. “Begging me to fuck you, and God, Sam, do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

Sam takes him in, a dark smile forming on his face when he notices Dean´s labored breathing, the flush that has spread down his chest. His eyes grow downright hungry when they land on Dean´s cock, and Sam turns slowly, lasciviously, an flash of hipbone peaking out from beneath his shirt. “I knew that the little brother thing gets you hot,” Sam purrs, “but if I´d known that it gets you _this_ hot...”

“Like you´re one to talk.” Dean hisses and watches as Sam leans closer and wraps a hand around his dick.

Or well, tries to. _Shit_.

“Guess you gonna need both of your hands to get me off now, Sammy.”

Sam scoffs. “Don´t be so sure, Dean,” he says and then the hungry, very adult expression slips off his face and is replaced by a look of wide eyed innocence.

“Wanna ride you cock, big brother.” Sam whispers, complete with a blush and breathless little moan, eager and fearful all at once. “Can I? _Please_?”

Dean nearly swallows his tongue. “Gonna fucking kill me, Sammy.” He curses but settles back against the headboard without another word.

Sam´s sliding right on top of him a second later, Dean´s too big shirt slipping off one birdlike shoulder and making his current body look even younger than it probably is.

He´s nearly weightless, fragile and small in a way Sam hasn´t been in a long fucking time, and that shouldn´t be such a turn-on, shouldn´t make Dean want to grab him and fuck that smirk right off of his face.

Teenage body or not, Sam still knows how to move, though, his firm ass rubbing against Dean´s cock, the slide easy and slick thanks to Dean´s spit and Sam´s earlier release.

Sam wiggles a bit lower so that their dicks line up and they both watch, transfixed, as their skin slides together.

“Shit,” Sam breathes, voicing all of Dean´s thoughts at once. “You gonna fucking break me with that thing.”

His pink little dick twitches against Dean´s bigger one, a drop of pre-come smearing messily against their skin.

“God, Sammy.” Dean hisses and kisses his way down Sam´s jaw. “I feel like some dirty old man fucking the neighbor´s kid in exchange for rent. Turning me into a fucking pervert, little brother.”

Sam groans, his movements stuttering the tiniest bit. “Fuck, gonna pop my cherry, Dean? Ruin me for every other man out there?”

He grinds down, slow and dirty and Dean involuntarily tightens his grip on Sam´s hips, utterly enthralled by the little minx in his lap.

Sam kisses him, sloppy and a little too wet, like this really _is_ his first time and he doesn´t know exactly that the hell he´s doing, pulling back before Dean has the chance to take control of the kiss.

“Gonna fuck me, big brother?” Sam whispers against his lips, sugary sweet and with an air of innocent seduction that fits his current body all too well.

Dean growls, spreads Sam´s ass with one hand, lines himself up with the other and then just pushes Sam down onto his cock.

It´s a tight fit, three fingers not nearly enough to prepare Sam´s little virgin body for the girth of an actual dick, but Dean goes slowly, gives Sam time to adjust, holds him still when he impatiently tries to push himself further down.

Sam buries his face against Dean´s shoulders, teeth biting into his skin as Sam tries to stifle his cries. Dean shushes him and gently strokes his trembling flanks, tries to get him to relax, and inch by inch he slides a little deeper until he´s finally buried to the hilt, Sam´s ass firmly seated in his lap.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” Sam chokes out, voice wet with tears. “God, Dean, I´m so fucking _full_.”

Dean kisses his sweaty hair and slides his hands from Sam´s hip down to his ass to pull his cheeks apart, traces a finger around the place where they´re joined, fervently wishing they had a camera to capture this very moment.

“Think you can lean back for me, baby?” Dean asks, kissing every part of Sam he can reach. “Wanna see...”

Sam sobs out a moan but obeys, gingerly leans back until his arms are braced against Deans legs and there´s enough room between their bodies that Dean can get a glimpse of them.

“ _Fuck_.”

They look filthy, Sam´s slender boy thighs spread wide over Dean´s hips, his rim stretched obscenely wide to accommodate the thickness of Dean´s cock. He looks like he´s about to burst, like this is almost more than Sam´s young body can take.

But Sam has never been one to back down from a challenge, and the smirk he flashes Dean clearly says that he´s not about to start to now. Instead, Sam takes a shuddering breath and then carefully begins to move.

At first, it´s only slow rocking movements, but it doesn´t take him long until he´s riding Dean´s dick in earnest, face scrunched up in concentrated pleasure.

Dean grabs his hips to help him, slides his hand up to encircle Sam´s waist so that he can push himself a little deeper on every thrust.

The movement rucks up Sam´s shirt, and that´s when Dean sees it – the faint outline of his cock, poking at Sam´s stomach from the inside.

“Holy shit.” He breaths and shifts his hand until his palm is pressing against Sam´s lower abdomen, until he can feel himself move underneath Sam´s skin.

“I can see my fucking dick.” Dean growls and grabs one of Sam´s hands, placing it right on top of the bulge, watches with satisfaction as Sam´s eyes flutter closed and his breathing stutters.

“God, Dean...” Sam cants his hips back and grinds down, traces the shape of Dean´s dick with shaking fingers. “Dean – Jesus, come on, _fuck. me._ ”

And Dean does. Grabs Sam´s hips in a vice-like grip and then just slams him down onto his cock, again and again, until Sam can´t do more than hang on for the ride, boneless and pliant in Dean´s arms, wounded little sound falling from his abused lips.

It takes everything Dean has not to just come then and there, the simple fact that he can manhandle Sammy´s body any way he pleases enough to short-circuit his brain.

Thankfully, Sam seems to be just as affected by this as he is – a few well-placed thrusts and Sam´s losing it, screaming his name as he adds to the mess of spit and sweat between their bodies.

Dean growls and slams into him once, twice, before he´s coming too, hot and thick and so far up Sam´s insides that he faintly wonders of his brother can taste him at the back of his throat.

“Wow,” Sam croaks a few moments later, voice hoarse and fucked out, slowly lifting his head from Dean´s chest. “Remember how you refused to touch me earlier because you thought it was going to be weird.”

“It _is_ weird.” Dean grumbles and pulls Sam in for a slow kiss. “Makes me feel like some dirty old creep.”

"Never stopped you before. Besides,`s not like this is going to last forever. Three days tops and I should be back to normal.” Sam smirks up at him and starts rubbing his growing hard-on against Dean´s abs. Fucking teenagers and their non-existent refractory period.

“Wanna help me find out what else this body can do?”


End file.
